


The Passing of the Days

by Cookie



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 18:10:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12917421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cookie/pseuds/Cookie
Summary: A mission into the land of the Celts goes badly wrong and Merlin and Arthur can't move on until everything is fixed.





	The Passing of the Days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [schweet_heart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/gifts).



> Dear schweet_heart - This is a slight mix and match and I had a lovely time planning it all out. I do so hope you enjoy my take on some of your prompts - they were such wonderful ones to choose from. Happy Holidays x
> 
> If you wonder about the Kelpies mentioned at the end - http://www.thehelix.co.uk/things-to-do/the-kelpies/

Merlin stumbled, muttering under his breath as his bound hands made it difficult to keep his balance on the rocky ground. A sharp point prodded his back and suddenly, explosively, he spun round and scowled ferociously at his tormentor.

“Merlin!” Arthur yanked his arm back and down, lowering the sword, which had just come dangerously close to piercing flesh.

They glowered at one another.

Merlin considered him for a moment, his own anger melting away at the obvious alarm, at the hurt he could see deep in Arthur’s eyes. With a sigh, he muttered a word, not attempting to hide the gold he knew burnished his vision. The ropes binding his hands behind him dissolved into nothingness and he folded his arms across his chest, matching Arthur’s scowl with one of his own.

There was a hiatus, a moment’s stillness, and then Arthur huffed out a sigh redolent with indignation and long-suffering. He sheathed the sword and folded his own arms.

“You could have done that at any time, couldn’t you?” Arthur didn’t wait for the response. “Why would you let me bind you?”

“I hoped you’d come to your senses. How could you ever think I’d hurt you?” Merlin knew that his own hurt had surfaced. No matter – it seemed this was the time to dispense with secrets. In his heart of hearts he was relieved. He was so ready for this truth, wherever it might lead them.

“I don’t know you.”

“Yes, you do. That’s the point,” Merlin threw his hands in the air and then rubbed them across his hair. “Don’t you understand? I would never have kept the magic secret if I wasn’t worried about being murdered for it. I was born with magic, Arthur, it was never something I sought. It’s natural and it’s part of me. But it doesn’t change who I am.”

“Magic corrupts –“

“Bollocks.” Merlin almost laughed aloud at the startled rise of Arthur’s eyebrows, but this moment was too critical to spoil, to possibly lose the chance with such an expression of angry disbelief. “That’s your father talking – the man who’s court physician was a magic user, the man who has allied himself with magic in the past.”

“He’d never –“

“He did. He used magic against the advice of magic users and it went wrong.” How more plainly could he put it, Merlin thought, without laying on Arthur the burden of knowing that it was his birth, Ygraine’s death, that precipitated the purge on magic.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed, but at least it seemed as if he was considering whether there was any merit in Merlin’s assertion.

“You know your father, Arthur. You know me. This was a position I never wanted to put you in, but here we are. You have to choose who to believe. You have to choose who to trust.”

“It’s late. We’ll camp here tonight and tomorrow we’ll find Gwaine and Leon.”

Typical. In the face of such a choice, it seemed Arthur was willing to completely ignore the conundrum facing him. For the moment, anyway.

**

Arthur was brooding. He knew he was and from the rolled eyes and dramatic sigh, he knew Merlin was aware of it, too. Of course he was, because there was no-one in the land who knew Arthur better than Merlin, including his own father.

Well, for once he felt he had some justification for his mood.

Why his father had sent him on this mad emissary still confounded him. Only days after he'd returned from the Perilous Lands with the Trident of the Fisher King, Uther had send him on another mission. Along with Leon, they had found themselves travelling northward, into the land of the Celts with orders to meet with local tribes and discuss the new religion that was taking hold in this part of the country. Rumour had reached Uther that it was a religion that had no place for magic and for that reason alone it interested him. Just over the border of Camelot, they had run across Gwaine and he had thrown in his lot with them once again. Arthur hadn't been entirely sure he was happy about that, seeing Merlin's pleased reaction. So here they were, travelling through a difficult landscape with all its attendant problems. They were not wearing the trappings that would identify them immediately as being from Camelot, but the quality of their horseflesh and equipment was enough to stir up interest.

Arthur didn’t miss much and he’d been on his guard following a night at an inn where he felt there had been too much interest shown in them. It helped a little, giving him that extra split second edge when the bandits attacked, but it wasn’t enough. The men they were facing weren’t stupid, splitting the Camelot party up and harrying them through the woodland until Arthur completely lost any sense of where Gwaine and Leon might have ended up. Merlin, of course, managed to stick close to Arthur and as they’d stumbled out of a thicket of trees and found themselves bounded in by sheer cliff walls, he’d had a moment to regret he hadn’t left Merlin safe in Camelot.

Merlin clutched his arm and pulled him back, then with an oddly helpless look at the four well-armed men cutting off their escape, turned to Arthur and in a tone of deep distress choked out.

“I’m sorry, Arthur. I’m so, so, sorry.”

Arthur had drawn breath to ask what on earth Merlin had to be sorry about, and almost choked instead, as it became glaringly obvious.

Merlin stepped forward, suddenly seeming taller, and gestured, hand outstretched. His voice deep, he cried out a single short sentence and Arthur witnessed the sudden terror in their attackers' faces before they were thrown back into the trees, their bellows of pain cutting off abruptly. 

Merlin turned towards him then, burnished gold bleeding from his eyes to leave the blue behind. He didn’t seem the least bit surprised when Arthur, acting on instinct, levelled his sword at Merlin’s chest. He made no move to defend himself.

“Turn round.” Arthur had no idea what to do, but even with anger and betrayal sweeping through him, he knew there was no way he could ever hurt Merlin. It only made him angrier, though, when Merlin obeyed him without a word, clearly expecting to be run through by Arthur’s sword. In that moment, Arthur acknowledged that almost every emotion he was currently experiencing, was down to the knowledge that Merlin didn’t trust him.

He couldn’t speak, instead he bound Merlin’s hands, and they’d begun their walk back to the spot at which they’d been ambushed.

**  
Merlin prepared their small camp. A breeze wafted through the clearing and he frowned, staring into the sparsely scattered trees. Arthur obviously caught his abstraction.

“What is it?”

“Do you hear anything?”

“Like what?”

“I thought I heard a woman singing.”

“I didn’t hear –“

“There it is again.” Merlin interrupted him and was pleased to see that Arthur didn’t dismiss it as fancy.

“What direction?”

Merlin pointed towards the north and nodded at Arthur’s silent gesture to move in that direction. They moved forward with as much stealth as they could manage, until they rounded a strange moss and heather covered mound.

There was a woman working at the small stream, her song audible to both of them now as she slapped some clothing against the rocks, before dipping it in the running water once more. Merlin frowned at the sight of the three shirts she was so assiduously laundering.

“I don’t understand,” murmured Merlin, his gaze fixed on the shirts. He heard Arthur draw in a breath and spoke quickly. “Don’t say a word. Not yet.”

Merlin stepped forward, Arthur close to his side and as they approached the woman looked up, though she did not cease in her labours. 

She was beautiful, her dark hair tumbling down the back of her green dress, her features fine, with full red lips and blemish-free pale skin and her eyes, a deep blue. She was weeping.

Before Merlin could speak, Arthur stepped forward.

“Madam, what ails you? Is there anything we can do to help?”

Now she did pause, looking beyond Arthur and her gaze seemed to sear to the heart of Merlin.

“There is no end to my sorrow.” Her voice lilted with the strange accent of these parts, but she was easy to understand. “Only the day of my death will deliver me. Oh, my bonny bairn, my boy, my boy that killed me.” She returned to her task and Arthur turned to Merlin, shrugging.

Merlin stepped alongside him. “Madam, will you tell me whose clothes you wash?”

“You are polite, Emrys, you and your King.”

Merlin drew in a shocked breath.

“You know us.”

“The world knows you. But even you will not be able to save us. They will forget, they will turn away. Only you will live on – perhaps.” 

Her sideways glance was aimed at Arthur and Merlin fought to get the words past the sudden terror. “Will you answer my question?”

“Still polite, even when you already know the answer, Emrys. Three shirts I wash. Three shirts for three men: a king, a noble and a knight. Three shirts to clothe them in their graves.”

“No, no that can’t be so.”

“Merlin, what does she mean?” Arthur looked uneasy, as well he might, thought Merlin.

She stopped for a moment, her eyes resting on Arthur, a little hungry. “Another bairn that lost his mother,” she murmured. “I will give us all some hope, Emrys, that much I think I may do. With the aid of another. Help us, and in so doing, save your friends.”

The mist came from nowhere, swirling around them until only the sudden fierce grip of Arthur’s hand on his shoulder reassured Merlin that he was not lost and alone. The breeze that ruffled his hair was welcome as it scattered the whiteness around them, swirling it into tattered tendrils before it drifted away.

The woman was gone.

Without speaking, Merlin turned and led them back to their campsite, gathering firewood almost absently as he went and only peripherally aware of Arthur doing the same. Once Merlin built the fire, he lit it with a word, and then began sorting out the remnants of their store of food.

“Well, I suppose it’s useful for something,” he heard Arthur mutter, as the wood sparked and caught and cast out its heat.

Merlin, despite his whirling thoughts and incipient panic, managed to find a smile. “Its useful for lots of things, just you wait and see.” He stared down into the cooking pot. “Just you wait,” he whispered.

He was grateful that Arthur waited until they’d finished their small meal before he spoke again. Merlin had choked his food down, knowing he needed to eat, but it was like swallowing dust.

“Are you going to tell me?” Arthur asked, eventually.

Merlin really didn’t want to, but the expression on Arthur’s face “Before we left, Gaius told me about some of the lore of these parts. The woman – I think she’s the bean nighe - the Washer at the Ford. The clothes she was washing,” he felt his throat close and he stared at his hands where they were twisting together in his lap. “The shirts are Gwaine’s and Leon’s – and yours.”

“What does that mean? How can they be ours?”

“The bean nighe is said to be a woman who – who died in childbirth. She’s doomed to wash the clothes of those who are about to die.” He had to clear his throat. The lengthening silence finally made him look up. Arthur’s expression was not encouraging.

“And you really want me to believe that sorcery is not evil?”

Merlin chose to believe there was a plea in Arthur’s tone, anything other than acknowledging a resurgence of anger and hatred.

“She’s not evil, she’s cursed.” He hurried on before Arthur could respond to that. “She’s not the cause of whatever might happen, it’s just a foretelling.”

“She has just told us I am about to die.” Arthur picked up a stick and poked moodily at the fire.

“Not if I can do anything to prevent it.” Merlin said.

There was a long silence, and then Arthur threw the stick into the fire. His voice was not unkind when he spoke. 

“Get some sleep, Merlin. It looks like tomorrow may be a busy day.”

Merlin was about to respond, but Arthur turned away and he swallowed instead. They bedded down in a silence only broken by the crackling of the dying fire and occasional hoot of an owl.

**

The morning was cool and misty when Arthur woke him, though reaching out with his senses, Merlin could feel nothing out of place. Just a normal mist. He set the fire alight, not worrying too much about the dampness of the wood, and was obscurely cheered by Arthur’s quickly suppressed snort of amusement. 

Arthur had set a trap the night before and Merlin was despatched to check it. Wandering back to their camp, with the rabbit dangling from his hand, he stumbled at the sight confronting him. There was a man rifling through their belongings and Arthur –

With a cry torn from the heart of him, Merlin screamed out the words, the man not even having the time to draw a breath before he was nothing more than a pile of dust. The breeze caught it, dissipated it and it was gone.

Merlin stumbled to Arthur and dropped to his knees by his side. Arthur was on his back, his features peaceful, the crossbow bolt firmly embedded in his chest. 

“Arthur, Arthur. Wake up – you have to wake up. Please?”

There was no response, how could there be, when there was no breath in the body left to use.

Sobbing now, unsure what to do, Merlin covered his face with his hands to shut out the sight – 

\- and stumbled, as his bound hands made it difficult to keep his feet on the rocky ground.

“Merlin?”

With a word, Merlin loosed his hands and turned to face Arthur, who was already sheathing his sword.

“What in the name of the Gods just happened?” Arthur was pressing his hand against the centre of his chest and at the sight of that, Merlin choked.

“Arthur?”

There was no help for it, Merlin took a long step forward and before a startled Arthur had time to speak again, Merlin had wrapped his arms around him, holding him as if he might never let him go. He was shivering, the horror of what he’d experienced catching up with him and he buried his face in Arthur’s hair.

“Easy there, easy Merlin.” Arthur’s arms wrapped around him and a hand patted his back.

Merlin couldn’t help it, Arthur’s awkwardness in his attempts to comfort Merlin were endearing and he pulled back, trying not to giggle. He knew he was close to some form of hysteria, and struggled to compose himself, though Arthur’s puzzled expression almost pushed him into a fit of the giggles.

“Did you do something?” Arthur demanded.

Merlin shook his head. “I wouldn’t know how. I think, I think it might have been the bean nighe. Remember she said something about helping us.” He drew in a deep breath and then scrubbed his hands across his eyes.

“Merlin,” Arthur’s voice was soft and he seemed hesitant. “Did my death matter so much to you?”

The birds’ singing and the gentle breeze through the trees were the only sound for a few moments, while Merlin struggled to find words. Helpless, honest, stripped bare, he met Arthur’s eyes.

“Losing you would break me.”

A deep intake of breath and then he was suddenly in Arthur’s arms again. 

They stood there, wrapped up in one another as the warm wind brushed across them and ruffled their hair.

Merlin moved until they were cheek to cheek and he could feel Arthur’s breath on his skin.

“I could never hurt you. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you about the magic. I wanted to, so much but I didn’t know how and every time I got close to telling you, something happened and-“ he was starting to run on, the words tumbling from him.

“Don’t, Merlin, don’t.” Arthur shifted, the movement ending in the brush of Arthur’s lips against Merlin’s. Merlin gasped aloud and then pressed forward, capturing Arthur’s mouth in a caress that could not be misinterpreted. 

It was some time before they broke apart, dazed and almost shocked by the sudden turn of events.

“Well,” Arthur said eventually, when they’d managed to stop staring at one another. “What do we do now?”  
Merlin might have been disappointed by the prosaic return to reality, except for the heat in Arthur’s eyes. He could feel the warmth rising in his cheeks and he pressed his hands to them, grinning shyly at Arthur before casting around to find an answer.

“I think we need to do what we did before – except tomorrow morning we’ll be ready for – for –.“ There was a long pause while he fought against the recent memory. Arthur stretched out a hand and gripped his arm.

“I’m here, Merlin. I’m here. We’ve got another chance and we’ll be fine. I promise.”

Merlin smiled helplessly at him, appreciating the attempt at reassurance while they both knew it was a promise he might have no chance to keep.

Arthur sighed. “Let’s make camp.”

It was different than before, this time there were no angry silences, although they were still quiet, shaken by the events they had experienced. When Merlin threw down his bedroll, Arthur’s was put down beside his, though the expression on Arthur’s face threatened violence if Merlin was thinking of commenting.

Merlin smiled instead, and they settled down together in a silence that was now companionable.

**

Their journey the next day was tense and, Merlin decided, slightly boring as they trudged their way along the same tracks and trails they had walked along the day before. Or was it the same day. Merlin spent some time chasing that round his brain before giving up. He glanced at Arthur, and gathered by the slight frown and furrowed lines on his brow, that Arthur was also struggling. Arthur caught him looking and his expression cleared, offering a smile and a shrug. Ridiculously, Merlin felt warmth rush over him as he returned it, surprised as Arthur’s smile turned shy and his own cheeks took on a rosy hue.

It was something else to ponder as they walked along in a silence that was comfortable. He would never have expected Arthur to be shy and yet, when he considered further, he realised he’d never seen any sign of a person sharing Arthur’s bed, and even with Gwen, Merlin had often been amused and exasperated both by the awkwardness of their encounters.

He sobered. Gwen.

“What’s bothering you, Merlin, you look fit for weeping.”

Arthur’s voice broke into his increasingly dismayed thoughts.

“You haven’t really asked me anything about the magic.” Merlin didn’t really want to talk about it either, if he was honest, but it was better than talking about Gwen.

Arthur’s raised eyebrows suggested he knew it was a deflection.

“Plenty of time to talk about it once we’re through all this.”

“I’ll look forward to that,” said Merlin.

His tone of voice suggested otherwise and Arthur cracked out a laugh.

**

They set their camp in the same place and listened tensely until the sound of singing wafted to them on the breeze. Exchanging a glance they made their way to the stream and once again there was the woman washing.

“Two shirts,” said Merlin. “She’s only washing two shirts this time.” The relief almost took his breath away, when he saw that Arthur’s shirt was not there. Almost immediately, he felt a horrified shame as he realised that even though Arthur’s shirt was missing, those that were still being washed belonged to two of his best friends. He couldn’t even look at Arthur, and instead walked forward to speak to the bean nighe. As he did so, a warm breeze ruffled his hair and, obscurely, he felt a comfort and understanding in the touch of it.

Arthur pressed his arm as he stepped alongside him.

The woman tipped her head and her weeping eased a little. “My bonny boys,” her voice had a warmth they were not expecting. “You understand?”

“Yes, Madam, and we thank you for your aid.”

“Not just me, there are always others who will aid Emrys and King Arthur.”

Arthur shifted. “I’m not the king.”

“You were King Arthur eons before your birth. You were always King Arthur to the land that bears you. You always will be. With Emrys by your side, I see hope where there was none.”

She turned away from them and picked up Leon’s shirt, weeping again as she dipped it in the running water.

They exchanged a glance and then headed back to their small camp without another word. She was so obviously done with them. 

“At least we know what to expect tomorrow morning,” Arthur finally broke the silence.

“I won’t let any harm come to you.”

Arthur pulled him up from where he had begun building a fire, his hands tight about Merlin’s arms. 

“Merlin,” he shook him slightly, then slid one hand up to cup his cheek. “Merlin, you won’t always be able to protect me, you must know that.”

“I’m not stupid,” Merlin couldn’t bear the tell-tale softness in Arthur’s eyes. He didn’t want sympathy. “It’s just – if anyone or anything gets to you, they should have gone through me first.” He set his jaw, daring Arthur to make any comment.

Arthur stared at him and then sighed, leaning forward until their heads were pressed one against the other. When he drew back, he bestowed one gentle kiss on Merlin’s forehead, and then released him without speaking.

**

In the morning, Merlin woke early, moving out of the campsite much as he had done before, except this time he stayed close by and watched. When the bandit crept into the clearing, the rosy light glinting off the dull metal of the crossbow, he stepped forward.

It broke the man’s concentration as he straightened and turned to face Merlin, offering a black-toothed grin before hefting the bow. It was a fatal mistake. In a smooth, silent motion, Arthur rose up, darted forward, and slid his knife between the man’s ribs.

Merlin watched as he died, then turned away to gather up their belongings. 

“I always used to think you were squeamish but you’re not at all, are you?”

He faced Arthur just as Arthur slid his cleaned knife into its sheath.

“I am sometimes,” he admitted. He shrugged. “I’ve seen enough death since I came to Camelot. It was almost the first thing I did see – a man being executed because he had the misfortune to be born with magic.” 

He met Arthur’s eyes, then and it was Arthur who looked away first.

“You were born with magic?” Arthur accepted the pack Merlin was holding out to him, before he checked the position of the sun and set off. 

Merlin fell into step alongside him and took the question as an invitation to talk.

“Mum said I was doing magic from almost the moment I was born. She was terrified.”

“That woman – she called you by another name?”

“Emrys – yes – it’s a name the Druids have for me.”

“What does it mean?”

Merlin shrugged again. “I’m not sure. It’s some prophecy they have about me and you.”

They walked on for a while.

“Well?”

“Hmm?

Arthur jostled him. “You can’t leave it there – what prophecy?”

“Do we have to talk about this?”

“Yes, we do. You’ve kept a huge secret from me all this time – and I do understand why you did now I’ve had time to think about it. But I want to know everything. No more secrets between us, Merlin. None. Isn’t that important for you, too?”

Merlin hadn’t realised it was possible to feel elated, miserable, terrified and awed all at the same time, but that was exactly the mix of emotions that washed over him. He stopped for a moment to lean against the trunk of a nearby tree. He spread his hand over the bark and felt its life-blood thrumming gently and steadily through the wood. It calmed him.

When he felt able, he sighed and met Arthur’s steady gaze. “Yes, yes it really is, but some of the things I’ve done.” He had to stop and swallow.

“Yes, Merlin, I know you’re an idiot – I’ve no doubt you’ve done some really stupid things.” Arthur ignored Merlin’s annoyed huff. His voice softened though. “But I’ve already counted a number of times when it was you who must have saved me. And secrecy leads to bad decisions, doesn’t it?”

Merlin nodded, beyond words.

“Then you can tell me all about it as we walk, and Merlin,” Arthur waited until Merlin was facing him. “We have all done things that were wrong and we deeply regret. It’s what we do from here on in that counts between us, do you agree?”

There was only one response to that, and Merlin laughed along with Arthur as he engulfed his King in a tight hug, relief flooding through him as Arthur’s arms tightened briefly around him.

Then Arthur cleared his throat, and Merlin released him.

“Let’s move. Leon and Gwaine knew we were heading in towards the east coast, so we should find them on the way.”

Forefront in both their minds were the two shirts the bean nighe had been washing.

**

Merlin had talked himself hoarse and a slightly strained silence had fallen between them by the time they saw the ruins of a castle on a rocky outcrop ahead. Exchanging a look, they walked steadily towards it, until suddenly Arthur stopped and stared hard. In the next moment, Merlin saw what had grabbed his attention, taking off after Arthur. A flash of blue, Leon's cloak, and a glimmer of light on steel.

Too late, they were going to be too late.

As they burst into the ruined courtyard, a grim figure turned to face them, hands as red as the cap he was wearing, holding onto a garment dripping with blood. Sprawled on the courtyard, Leon stared upward, but saw nothing.

Too late.

The creature bounded towards them. Merlin cast a spell and the figure flew backwards, bouncing back to his feet and advancing again. In the next instant, a stranger pushed between Arthur and Merlin, surprising them both as he held out a cross of wood and began reciting in Latin.

With a terrifying, terrible screech, the creature vanished.

**

Merlin stumbled. With a word his bonds disappeared and he turned to face Arthur.

“It brings us back to the same point, every time.” 

“The journey’s going to get rather boring,” Arthur said, apparently unconcerned though his face was waxy pale. Leon was one of his oldest friends.

“We know what to do, now,” Merlin said. “We’ll save him this time and find Gwaine.”

“Gwaine’s been a good friend to you, Merlin.” Arthur brushed aside the reassurance. “With luck, when we find the bean nighe this time, she will only be washing one shirt – but it will be Gwaine’s.”

Merlin understood. “I’ve watched friends die before – and at least this time we’ll have another chance to save him.”

Arthur nodded. “Let’s walk. You can tell me more about your magic.”

This was not something Merlin was particularly looking forward to, because now he was going to have to speak about, Morgana, about releasing the dragon, and about Balinor. He may be reliving the same day over again, but he had the distinct feeling there was going to be a great deal of shouting in this edition.

Arthur’s predictable fury at hearing of the dragon’s release lasted less time than Merlin had expected, but was still unpleasant enough. The explanation of why, and the story of Morgana’s fall only helped a little and it was not until he stumbled through the events with Balinor, that Arthur’s thunderous expression eased to become something else entirely. By then, the day had passed and the song of the bean nighe was beckoning them on.

She smiled at them as they approached, her head on one side as she looked them over, though she did not pause in her washing.

One shirt, Merlin saw with relief. Only one shirt. On the morrow Arthur and Leon would both be saved. He smiled at her, but her attention was all on Arthur.

“So many secrets and lies now laid bare, bonny boys, but not all, my King?”

Arthur’s chin rose and his mouth worked a little before he found his voice. Merlin wondered at its rawness and stared at Arthur, whose eyes were fixed firmly on the ground, shoulders hunched. “No, not all but enough for today.”

A warm breeze moved Arthur’s hair and Merlin felt its caress on his cheek.

Arthur straightened and sighed, meeting the piercing gaze of the bean nighe. “My Lady, by the time we return tomorrow, there will be no more secrets, my word on it.”

“Well said, bonny boy. Your Mother is proud of you.

Merlin’s hand shot out to grip around Arthur’s arm in wordless support as he felt the sharp intake of breath, but outwardly Arthur remained calm.

“Madam, I thank you.”

She tuned away and they took their leave and though she was not looking at them, both still bowed. 

The breeze chased them back to their campsite.

**

It was a grim enough start to the new day, with their attacker despatched and the two of them moving as swiftly as they could along the trail. There was little talking today, but Arthur did speak of the first attack he’d led as a young man, not sparing himself as he told Merlin what had happened and the guilt he’d carried with him since that day. Merlin did not speak, instead, he’d reached out and gripped Arthur’s hand. Arthur had swallowed hard. Merlin thought he was about to withdraw his hand, but Arthur had simply interlocked their fingers and they’d walked on like that until the ruins could be seen on the horizon once more.

“Look.” 

Arthur finally released his hand and pointed at the hillside. Merlin could see a flash of blue at the foot of the hill. A piercing whistle made him jump out of his skin and he glared at Arthur. Arthur looked a little smug until he realised the figure was still climbing. With one bitten off expletive, he started racing across towards him, cursing anew as the boggy, uneven ground impeded his progress. After one startled moment, Merlin dived after him, hauling him to a stop.

“Merlin, we need to reach him before he gets to the top.”

“I know. I can help.” Merlin wiggled his fingers.

Arthur stared at the hand and Merlin’s heart sank at the way his mouth tightened.

“Arthur?”

With a sigh, Arthur scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Yes, all right. Do – whatever you need to do, then.”

Merlin resisted the urge to scowl and instead concentrated on the figure ahead. He reached out his hand and whispered a word.

“Come on,” he said and passed Arthur.

Arthur caught him up easily enough. “What did you do?”

“I’ve slowed the time around him. It’s going to take him longer to climb. It should let us get there before he reaches the castle walls.”

They pressed on, the silence thick around him until Arthur asked.

“That’s what you did the very first time you saved my life, isn’t it? Just how powerful are you?”

“As powerful as I need to be to protect my King – you.”

“I’m not the king, Merlin.”

Merlin wasn’t sure what expression he turned on Arthur then, but it was enough to shut Arthur’s mouth and stifle any further comment. “You are my king.”

“Come on, we need to move faster.” Arthur picked up the pace, grabbing his arm when Merlin almost fell and then keeping a steadying grip on him as they moved onward.

Their progress was halted by a shout from their right, and when Merlin looked, he could see a man scurrying towards them, cutting around the base of the hill. They might have ignored him, but they both recognised him as the man who had vanquished Leon’s killer the day before.

My sons, you must not go up to the ruin.”

“My friend is up there,” Arthur said.

“Then we must hurry.” 

Despite his advanced age and the ground-length brown tunic he wore, the man was sprightly enough. They surged up the hill, Merlin’s spell to slow Leon ensuring that the gap between them was narrowing quicker than it might. The stranger spoke as they travelled, introducing himself as Brother Andrew. 

“The castle is infested by a creature of evil, a Red Cap. It kills its victims and washes their clothes in their own blood.”

Merlin resisted the urge to snap out that he knew this, and instead saved his breath for the race up the hill.

“There is little the Old Religion can do against them, but I am of the true faith and serve the One God. The words and symbols of the Christian Faith are an anathema to this creature in particular.”

“I have spoken to a number of your religion’s followers, brother.” Merlin marvelled at the ability of Arthur to remain courteous despite the circumstance. “Perhaps once we have despatched this creature, you will tell us more.”

This was the mission Uther had charged them with, to discover more about Christianity, the new religion that was being embraced by many in a slow, seemingly inexorable creep through the countryside. It left Merlin feeling distinctly uneasy, but now was not the time to consider why.

They burst into the courtyard just after Leon and he turned to face them, first in alarm and then with pleasure as he recognised them. 

“Look out!” 

It appeared out of nowhere and Merlin, uncaring of any consequence, flung out his hand and the Red Cap flew backwards before he could plunge the knife into Leon’s side. 

Before it could recoup, the brother stepped forward, declaiming the same words Arthur and Merlin had heard before, holding out the makeshift cross of wood. 

When it was over, all four were left staring at one another.

“My son, you used magic.” The stranger was frowning.

Merlin lifted his chin, but he was done with being either afraid or ashamed of what he was. “Yes. I was born with magic.”

“Magic is of the Old Religion and those who follow my one true God can be intolerant of those who seek to retain the old ways.”

“Why must that be so,” to Merlin’s wonder, it was Arthur challenging the statement. “Already your God seeks to make use of our established feast days – Imbolc, Sahmain, Beltane – those who have spoken to us on our travels have all explained how those have become holy to your God. If we are accepting of you doing all this, why should you not accept that magic is part of our natural order?”

Merlin moved backwards until he could find a handy bit of ruined wall, and sat down rather heavily. To hear Arthur say such things left him a little bewildered, and happy in a soul-deep way that seemed to sap his strength for some reason.

After a few moments, Merlin became aware of a silence and he glanced up to see Arthur’s gaze fixed on the fourth member of their party. Leon had been fussing with his scabbard and once he’d finished he became aware of the scrutiny. Merlin couldn’t guess what he was thinking as Leon retained his usual impassive expression.

“Leon?” Arthur asked, eventually.

“Prince Arthur, is there a problem?”

“I was going to ask you that. Perhaps you didn’t see anything untoward?”

“No, sire, I saw nothing untoward. Unless you mean Merlin using magic?”

There was another hiatus and Merlin was obscurely pleased by the amusement Brother Andrew seemed unable to hide at Leon’s insouciance and Arthur’s spluttering response.

“Well, yes,” Arthur said eventually. “You are not concerned?”

“Considering he saved my life yet again, sire, it would seem discourteous to express any response other than gratitude. And the same to our new friend.” He offered Brother Andrew a courtly bow, which was returned.

“You knew I had magic?” Leon’s choice of words had finally registered with Merlin.

Leon smiled at him. “Oh yes, I knew. It was obvious someone with magic was helping us, and once I worked that out it was easy enough to work out whom. And the Druids confirmed it.” He turned his attention to Arthur then. “Sire, magic may be banned in Camelot but we are not within her borders now, and even if we were, I would not be willing to see Merlin come to harm.”

“We are of one mind, Sir Leon, be reassured on that.”

“What did the Druids say about me?” Merlin asked, uneasy as always when they were mentioned.

Leon smiled kindly at him, but didn’t answer. Instead he introduced himself to Brother Andrew, shaking the man’s hand and then exchanging explanations of what had happened when they had been separated with Arthur. 

Arthur, with a quelling glance at Merlin, said nothing of their current predicament, and Merlin responded with a quick nod. That could wait until they were on their own.

Brother Andrew, it transpired, was heading north and west, back to the small island where his brethren lived. “In the summer months we travel when we can, spreading the word of our Lord. I will return to the abbey this winter but next year I will be establishing another abbey south of here.”

Arthur and Leon spoke at length with him, asking about his religion as Uther had tasked them, but Merlin was silent. To him, this felt like a very real threat to their way of life.

Before he left them, Brother Andrew told them of the way ahead. “You are but a few miles from the sea, where you should find your friend. There are boats there that fish and ply their trade up and down the seas and you should be able to find a boat to carry you south.

It was not until they were on their way and Brother Andrew a mere speck in the distance on the far side of the moorland that Arthur began to speak of the events he and Merlin had experienced.

Leon was pale by the time they’d finished. It seemed the idea that they had been too late on the previous occasion had shaken him, but then he went up tenfold in Merlin’s already high opinion of him, when he stuttered out.

“Sire, I could not imagine the blow your death would have been for Camelot and for her future.”

Arthur flushed and cleared his throat. It was only when a sharp elbow caught him in his ribs that Merlin realised he was beaming ear to ear at a discomfited Leon.

“Let’s move on. If our previous experience holds, it is unlikely we will be able to save Gwaine from his fate, but we need to see what happens to ensure we can avert it the next time.” 

Merlin didn’t think he’d made any sound, but Arthur squeezed his shoulder as he passed to take the lead through the boggy landscape, heading for the low hills. 

Leon paused to offer his own reassurances. “I know all will be well, Merlin. With your magic and Arthur’s courage we will prevail.

Merlin stared at him for a moment, wondering why the words had such resonance and then Arthur was chivvying them onward and the moment was lost.

Brother Andrew had not lied, and it was not long before the shrill cry of seabirds and the salt tang in the air presaged their arrival at the coast. There were other scents on the horizon, too and Merlin recognised those that suggested there was habitation up ahead, the occasional waft of smoky air or the scent of meat or other less savoury smells becoming more prevalent as they walked on.

“I suppose it’s safe to assume that we check the taverns first?” There was a certain weary acceptance in Leon’s tone, and Merlin smothered a smile.

The town was more sizeable than they had first realised, and was on the side of the river not quite on the coast, the waterway busy with a myriad of ships. It seemed that the tide was in, guessed Merlin, looking at the high water and the way some of the ships were casting off, catching the tide.

They worked their way along the street, the darkening skies outside and the dim lighting within making it a difficult enough task. Merlin was becoming increasingly anxious. He glanced along the street as a door opened and spilled light out into the narrow alley.

There was something about the two men walking away from them towards the water. One of them turned and picked something out of the other's hair, throwing it off to the side with a laugh and a toss of his own hair. Merlin would have recognised that mannerism anywhere.

“Gwaine,” he called, setting off after them, Leon and Arthur in pursuit. As he reached the door of the inn Gwaine had quitted, a number of figures spilled out of the door, getting in their way and it took a few precious moments to get through them. Merlin was pushed against the wall and as he fought to right himself, he saw, gleaming green and catching what little light there was, a strand of seaweed. That was what Gwaine had plucked from his new friend’s hair, Merlin was sure. Seaweed.

“No, oh no.” Merlin turned to Arthur and knew his own horror was clear by the way Arthur’s expression changed.

“What, Merlin? What is it?”

“Kelpie. Gwaine’s with a Kelpie.” And he was off, diving through suddenly crowded streets, knowing with certainty that he had to head for the seashore rather than the river. By the time he managed to get clear of the crowds the two figures were far distant.

“Gwaine,” Merlin shouted as loudly as he could, pushing a touch of magic into his voice to help it carry further. He saw Gwaine turn towards him, and by the time he’d turned back to his companion the boy had gone and in its place was a horse, beautiful, spirited. Gwaine reached out.

“Don’t touch the horse!”

It was too late. Gwaine reached up and the moment he touched a hand to the horse’s shoulder, he was caught.

With a wild cry, the horse wheeled round and headed for the water, towing a reluctant Gwaine with it.

Merlin let out a scream that was half rage and half sorrow as foam broke over the glossy flanks. Gwaine let out one shout before he was dragged under and the horse, too, disappeared from view.

**

Merlin stumbled, his chest heaving against a sudden tidal wave of grief. Suddenly everything was too much, even knowing he had averted Arthur’s death, had saved him twice over on this trip and would make do so a third time before all this was over, even knowing that he could save Leon and Gwaine was not quite enough to stop the overwhelming sense of loss.

With a word the bonds fell away, but he could not turn to face Arthur.

After a moment, arms wrapped around him and he was pulled back against Arthur’s chest and held tight. He shut his eyes and soaked up the comfort offered for a few precious moment, then he scrubbed his hand across his eyes, taking a deep breath and easing himself out of Arthur’s hold.

“We need to get moving,” he said and thankfully Arthur didn’t speak. 

**

The bean nighe was singing her woeful song when they approached, calling them to her, but with a relief that almost brought him to his knees, Merlin saw that her hands were empty.

“Madam, we meet again.” Arthur bowed and Merlin followed suit.

“So we do indeed, bonny boys. For the last time, it seems.” 

“Thank you for your help, My Lady,” Merlin said. 

They were about to walk away when she spoke. “This much I did for Emrys and my Once and Future King. You have treated me with courtesy and consideration on each of the occasions we have met. So, this I will do for Arthur and Merlin. One piece of advice and one blessing I give you. Remember, Emrys, the fear of being forgotten, that is the fear that faces us all. And Arthur, bonny boy, beloved son of the Queen that bore you, know that she loves you still, and walks with you on this quest. The veil is thin in these parts, and she is close to you here. Take comfort both of you, and know Arthur, that she approves of your choice.”

Merlin looked at Arthur, bemused by the rosy colour on Arthur’s face, until Arthur turned to meet his gaze and saw heat there, too. For a moment Merlin wanted to look away but then he raised his chin, and let his own love and desire show clearly.  
Arthur smiled then. “Let’s walk on, shall we.” They turned to take their leave of the bean nighe, but there was no one by the side of the stream. They were alone. A breeze swirled around them and then the air was still.

Merlin reached out then and entwined his fingers with Arthur’s.

**

I’m getting rather tired of all this,” muttered Merlin, as they made their way as swiftly as possible across the moor and towards the town. Leon was still working through everything they’d told him and was busy questioning Arthur.

“Can you recall where you saw Gwaine?” asked Arthur as they made their way through the first bustling streets.

“Close to the waterfront, but I’m not exactly sure which door he came out of.”

“Leon, check that side of the street. Merlin go along to the end, then wherever they come out they have to go past you.”

Merlin shot ahead and then turned at the end of the street, peering through the dusk and trying to pick out Gwaine from the milling people.

He almost missed him and it was only the silhouette of Gwaine reaching out to take the seaweed from the Kelpie’s hair that drew his attention.

Merlin stepped out in front of them.

“Merlin,” Gwaine bounded over to him, wrapping him in an enthusiastic hug. “When did you get here? Are the others with you?”

Merlin returned the hug and then put Gwaine to one side, turning to face the Kelpie.

“He is not for you.”

“Merlin? What are you talking about?”

“Gwaine, step away from him.”

“We were just taking a walk to the ocean.”

“Step away.”

“You would deny us our rightful prey, Emrys?”

“You will not take my friend.”

At that moment, Arthur and Leon arrived alongside them.

The Kelpie bowed to Arthur and then fixed his attention on Merlin once more. 

“This is our nature, Emrys, would you take it from us? We are feared and feted, we are used to teach the young of the perils of the sea.”

“You don’t need to kill to do that. Your legends have spread far and wide and will not be forgotten.’

“Can you promise us that?”

Merlin remembered what the bean nighe had said and thought he finally understood. The growth and spread of the new religion meant change for them all. He nodded. “It may take me time, and I’m not exactly sure how, but I will promise to keep your stories alive.”

“The word of Emrys is a powerful thing. We will cease in our hunting, but know this. If the stories die, we will rekindle them.”

Merlin inclined his head, accepting the vow and the threat in one.

The Kelpie turned to Gwaine, pressing his hand to his heart. “For you, Sir Knight, I may even have stayed.” He bowed again and then leaped away, from one bound to the next going from two legs to four, heading for the ocean.

“What the – where did the horse come from?”

Merlin laughed aloud and then flung his arms round Gwaine, hugging him hard. They’d won, he and Arthur had saved them all.

A poke in his ribs pulled his attention back to a distinctly jealous looking Arthur. He let Gwaine go and took Arthur’s hand for a moment, smiling.

“Is it time to go home?” he asked.

In front of Gwaine and Leon, Arthur reached forward and pressed his lips to Merlin’s forehead. “Yes,” he said.

As they walked back to the town, Gwaine said. “Leon, you owe me 5 gold pieces. I told you Merlin was Emrys.”

**

Epilogue

2013

“Professor Ambrose?”

Merlin turned to face the young reporter and smiled.

“What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to ask how you felt, as the foremost authority on British folklore, on seeing the Kelpies today.”

“It’s wonderful. They’re absolutely stunning.” He smiled politely and moved on, working his way through the crowds admiring the 30 metre high metal sculptures. There was such fierce sense of movement in the horses’ heads and he was almost awed by their beauty.

A face caught his eye and he made his way over to him, smiling, he reached out and plucked a strand of seaweed from the Kelpie’s hair.

“You have more than kept your word, Emrys. We all thank you for keeping us alive.”

“It took a little while,” Merlin said.

“No, you have kept your word through the ages. If you ever need us, we will be at your service.” 

Merlin watched him walk away towards the ocean.

“Was that who I think it was?”

Merlin’s smile widened as Arthur stepped up beside him. “It was. They’ll help us if we need it.”

“Good to know – I think. Is it time to go home now?”

Merlin reached forward and pressed a kiss to Arthur’s forehead.

“Yes,” he said.

Fin


End file.
